


Dust to Dust

by PocketFell



Series: Random Daneel Oneshots [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: A sword with too much personality, Canon-typical Daneel insecurity, Gen, Original Character-centric, POV Original Character, Seasons of Amarantia (D&D Campaign), Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketFell/pseuds/PocketFell
Summary: Daneel takes a moment to centre herself following a stressful afternoon. Some people have opinions about her choice in allies.
Series: Random Daneel Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012515
Kudos: 1





	Dust to Dust

With a breath she sits down on the floor at the foot of her bed. It's late, and everyone else _should_ be otherwise occupied, but Aneryin never sleeps so she can't be too careful. She glances at the chair shoved under her door handle and the ball bearings scattered just inside the doorway. It's possible she _can_ be too careful.

Feeling the cold stone of the floor under her hands, she shuffles back so her back is resting against the bed frame and draws her sword. It flashes bright green for a second before settling on the pinkish shade she's come to associate with her blade. Daneel runs her hand down the blade, cleaning it even though it doesn't need it. There are some habits she'll never grow out of and proper weapon maintenance is one of the least worrisome to her friends. There's a sigh from the sword, the soft sort that lets her know she's doing something right by it and she smiles.

No. This isn't why she's doing this. She wants to talk with Stabby on her own terms. Although she's never called the sword to herself successfully before, she knows the sensation of what being drawn the other way feels like. All she has to do is recreate it going the other way. Closing her eyes, she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Keeping the image of the sword's spirit in her mind, she lets go of all her other thoughts and tries to centre her will. It's become much easier to manifest her will magically since her deal with Prathca. And that's the root of the entire problem isn't it.

"You're damn right it's the root of the problem."

Wait a minute… that voice isn't her own. Her eyes flick open, coming to rest almost immediately on the spirit of the sword. She's sitting on top of the vanity dresser, one leg curled up to her chest. The other trails down toward the floor but fades out of existence before it gets there. This is the first time she's seen the sword in the 'real world'. She'd been there briefly down in the Archive in the underdark, but that hadn't felt real to begin with. Daneel is almost certain that the whole thing was a fever dream or some kind of hallucinogenic substance that Lydia had dosed them all with.

"I didn't know you could do that." Daneel says. Start on safe ground so that if things went downhill she wasn't already in a strategically disadvantaged position.

"I couldn't, but then you went and made a deal with an all-powerful entity and so now I can. I wasn't good enough for you, I take it?"

The Sword hops down from the vanity, sitting herself cross legged on the floor in front of Dani. She has two feet now, Daneel notices. They're right at the edge of the rug, two and a half inches from where Daneel's own outstretched feet are resting.

"I'm allowed to do what I want. Jericho says so. In fact lots of people say so. And sometimes what I want involves helping my friends. Is that alright with you?"

There's anger creeping into Daneel's voice. She hadn't planned it happening like this. In her room, where anyone could hear them. But it's not like she can go somewhere else now.

"Not really, no. I _gave_ you powers, do you have any idea what that costs me? And you decide I'm not enough, so you need someone else's help."

"I didn't ask for that. And nothing you give me is actually helpful anyway. I mean for Gods' sake, you let me protect myself from magical energies? How often have we been in a situation where that was necessary? And what part of our agreement made you think I'd decide to protect myself from magical energies rather than just getting out of the damn way in the first place? Maybe if I'd been able to cast it on Lorelei, or Aneryin. People who get _hit_ with magical attacks?"

She's definitely yelling now. Maybe Aneryin is out and there won't be any awkward questions tomorrow.

"And another thing! If it's costing you so much, you can just go back to being a sword again. I won't miss all the damn whining, I can tell you that much."

"Whining? I was having my **soul** torn apart by a **demon.** A demon that you **put in me** , might I add."

At those words, Daneel's eyes go wide. Stabby had never told her that. That they were fighting for control, yeah, but never that she was in that kind of danger. Realising that she'd been brandishing the sword as if to fight the spirit off, she drops it to the floor. She rests her free hand on Stabby's cheek and stares down at her. Thankfully, the sword had stayed sat down when Daneel had flown to her feet in that last fit of rage.

"And you set your strength aside to aid me. I'm so sorry."

The sword's dark eyes won't meet hers, and she draws her face down toward the floor.

"You wouldn't have understood. You wouldn't-"

"I _would._ Stabby, I of all people would. But can't you see? You having to do this is exactly why I made the thrice-damned deal in the first place. Prathca lets me help people. Lets me look after them. If I'd done this 4 months ago, you could have been safely free of the demon rather than tearing yourself apart trying to look after me."

The sword-spirit goes quiet. Daneel hadn't even noticed before but ever since she'd manifested in the Material Plane there'd been a whispering around them, to indistinct to make out and almost unnoticeable until it was gone.

"You really think that? That I can't help you help people?"

"Oh you can. You absolutely can. And more importantly, you help _me._ You help me stab people in the knees. But sometimes I want to do something other than hurt. There's a time for all things."

That particular saying had come from Ailuin, not long before he'd left. Someone else the two of them could have saved if she'd been a little stronger back then. Of course Stabby was still just a whiny sword back then, begging for the pain of others and screaming every time Daneel set her down.

"You know that's not my name, correct?"

"You know it's rude to read people's minds, correct?"

"I wasn't _reading your mind,_ you halfwitted halfling. You've called me that several times."

Daneel sits down again, close beside the spirit. To her surprise, the ghost doesn't move away. Daneel takes what she can get and leans into her side a little. Although it isn't warm, it's contact with a sentient humanoid and Daneel isn't about to turn something like that down.

"What is it then?" The question is probably rude, but Daneel doesn't know a better way to phrase it.

"Aphra."

Daneel snorts. She can't help it. It isn't often that her knowledge of Ancient Asnan is useful. "Dust, really?"

"It was a family name. And I can't help but think it's appropriate. What is dust if not what's left behind of humans after they leave."

"Oookay then. Clearly we're not over our whiny teenager phase after all. Pop back into the material plane when you're ready to stop talking like an elf who's just discovered poetry."

The sword-- Aphra-- shoots her a glare, but does as she's commanded. She lays a hand on the hilt of the sword, and there's a sensation of sucking that doesn't seem to go anywhere or come from anywhere. Aphra vanishes with a pop as the sucking sensation releases.

There's a knock at the door barely a second later. She gets up to answer it, skirting neatly around the ball bearings and fully prepared to warn Aneryin about them if she wants to come in. To her surprise, it's Zelyth stood on the other side of the door.

"I heard you having a disagreement with an otherworldly entity and decided it was probably my turn to tell you to shut the hell up. Some of us are trying to sleep here."

"Sorry, Zelyth. I was just heading to bed myself. I'll tell the sword to be more quiet next time."

He nods and heads back over the corridor to his own room. Through his open door, she catches sight of Aneryin sitting crosslegged on the bed and, presumably, listening to the whole conversation. Great. This was going to be a thing in the morning, she just _knew it._


End file.
